


In Every Way

by itsfrantastic



Category: DCU (Comics), Glee, Justice League, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, M/M, WE HATE KLAINE IN THIS CLUB, if yall dont ship klark then what are you doing, mild anti rachel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:30:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsfrantastic/pseuds/itsfrantastic
Summary: Kurt Hummel meets Clark Kent at a work event, Superman meets Kurt Hummel in an alleyway. Together they save each other. Together they save the world.





	1. Imagine How The World Could Be

The first time Kurt Hummel met Clark Kent, it was at the biggest fashion gala he had ever been to. Kurt wasn’t nervous—or at least, that’s what he was trying to tell himself. This was huge. Big. A seismic activity of mega proportions, and an opportunity that he simply could not pass up. When he heard that Isabelle was looking for one of her junior editors to pen an article for the website Kurt jumped at the chance to be there and more. Isabelle was hesitant to give him the job—she loved and trusted him, but this was a major gala, and all of the big magazines were going to be there. She knew that Elle was sending one of her old rivals, and she needed Vogue dot com to outshine Cosmo. Kurt begged and pleaded  and spent more than one paycheck on edible fruit arrangements and ingredients for all the vegan pies he baked her to convince her to let him go.

Finally, she agreed to let him cover the Gala with the promise that he’d film multiple videos and write more than one editorial for the website. The gala was more than just a career event—it was a chance to get away from Blaine and his drama for one fabulous evening. Rachel had begged to be his plus one, but in the end he chose Santana. Kurt wanted just one night away from all of the bullshit and he knew Santana wouldn’t bother him as long as she got to shine in the beautiful gown that Isabelle lent her and if he enjoyed her company a little bit more these days, then who was anyone to know?

* * *

 

 The first time Clark Kent met Kurt Hummel it was at a fashion gala, and Clark was writing a fluff piece for the Daily Planet. It was one step above getting the senior reporters coffee, but Clark was glad to be out of the office for once. Clark had to borrow a suit from Bruce that ended up looking a bit weird on his body. He definitely felt like he was playing dress-up in Daddy’s suit. Out of place and extremely nervous, what did a farm boy from Kansas know about fashion? Clark resisted the urge to ask Lois for information, or even to be his plus one—things were weird between them. He didn’t know what they were or if they ever were.

 These days it just seemed like Lois was far more focused on her career. Clark respected that, but he didn’t like the mind games she played. It was like Lois wanted the world from Superman, but nothing from Clark. Despite being uncomfortable by the idea of spending his entire day and night in a room watching people parade avant-garde dresses and discuss the latest designs over glasses of 20-year-old Cabernet Sauvignon it certainly was a change of pace that Clark had found himself strangely looking forward to. Diana was far too busy with her job, so Clark, out of desperate need to not embarrass himself further by asking Dinah or Shayera, decided to go alone.

* * *

 

"Holy fucking shit, Kurt. Is that—is that Rihanna? Fuck I—" Santana said as she gripped the sleeve of his very well-tailored grey suit. He ripped her hand away immediately.

"Hands off the Gucci! Jesus,’’ he muttered as he rubbed his sore wrist. Her long nails were beginning to be a problem.

"Do you think I could talk to her?’’ Santana asked again, her hands nervously fluttered to her long black hair.

"Maybe, just don’t get too weird,’’ Kurt responded as he filmed a quick snapchat of Rihanna sitting at her table next to her people. He was very excited to see some of Hollywood’s A-listers but this was such a huge assignment that he couldn’t let himself get too distracted. He grabbed another flute of champagne and began to sip.

"I mean if you casually followed her into the ladies room for a touch-up…’’ Kurt responded with a shrug.

Santana’s upper lip curled as she concocted a plan. The unlikely pair were very starstruck, but Kurt had reminded her several times to remain as professional as possible. One day, they would both be rubbing elbows with these same stars and would not need to make negative impressions. Kurt’s phone pinged next to the green velvet scarf that he had set on the table in front of him. He glanced down and rolled his eyes.

 "Ugh … the unibrow again?" Santana asked as she stuffed a cheese cube in her mouth. Kurt nodded glumly as he played with the rim of his glass.

 "Baby, take my advice: he ain't shit and neither is the little parasite we live with," Santana said around a mouthful of _brie_.

 "San, they’re our friends." Kurt reminded her gently.

She responded with a noncommittal hum but Kurt knew she was right. Rachel, he could salvage things with. Maybe. Blaine? Probably not. Kurt loved Blaine but sleeping with Eli was just a step too far and Kurt didn’t know if he could forgive him. Would he even want to forgive him? Would he even want to be with someone who couldn’t handle the tiniest bit of separation? Someone who wanted to hurt him? Someone who wanted to take revenge on him? He just didn’t know. Ignoring Blaine’s constant and frequent text messages and voicemails was one thing, but having to come home and fight with his supposed best friend about it was just too much.

* * *

Clark made small talk to the woman that was obviously hitting on him at the bar. He attempted to subtly interview her for his piece but the woman in front of him was far too interested in getting his number. She was a model for one of the designers this event was for, and really, what did that say about Clark's reporting skills that he didn't even know who he was supposed to be writing about. He gave her his famous farm boy smile and excused himself. 

* * *

 

 

 

_pick up the damn phone, Kurt_

_Kurt, I love you.  I'm sorry_

_Kurt. That's enough. You've made your point._

_KURT_

_Kurt. I think it's quite sad that you're ignoring both Blaine and myself. What kind of friend does that? Please text both of us back._   

Kurt swiped through the many text messages on his phone without responding to them. 

  
"San, I’m over this," Kurt said as he grabbed his phone and clicked to shut it off. Downing the rest of his glass in one single gulp he grabbed his scarf and slipped it back on.

She looked up from her well-stocked plate of finger foods.

"I’m going to the men's room," Kurt told Santana. He nodded in the direction he was heading.

She smiled and began scrolling through her Insta feed. "Turn off your read receipts," she called at him as he walked away. 

* * *

 

Kurt played with his cufflinks as he thought hard about the situation with Blaine and Rachel. It was more than just a violation of trust, why hadn’t Kurt been enough? Yeah, he could be bossy and demanding, and flighty with his emotions sometimes but he thought what he had with Blaine was real. That it would last, that it would—he smacked straight into what felt like a brick wall.

"I’m so sorry. I got distracted by how nice the sinks are. My Ma’s looking to renovate and well—" a soft voice said.

This man’s eyes were a beautiful cobalt blue that Kurt felt he could get lost in, and his jaw seemed to have been handcrafted by Michelangelo himself but there was tiredness inside him that Kurt noticed immediately, he had a burning desire to figure out why. Kurt smiled up at the much taller man.

Clark was surprised by the dazzling white teeth and pouty mouth that knocked the breath out of him.

Kurt’s mouth went dry. "No," he said at first before he regained his words. "No, that was my fault. A lot on my mind, you know?" Kurt responded absentmindedly. He resisted the huge urge to run his hands through his perfectly crafted hair, but it had taken a whole hour to perfect and he refused to let this perfect specimen of a man see him in anything less than his best.

"Oh. Okay, do you want to talk about it? Maybe grab a drink?" Clark asked with an earnest face. It wasn’t just that this man was gorgeous and in front of him, but he seemed so dejected, so torn up about something, that Clark just had to help. Mama Martha would have his head and his behind with a newspaper roll if he just let this man walk right on by without stopping to help.

"I would but I barely know you," Kurt said quietly.

"Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I’m here to write a piece," Clark said. "To be honest, I think I'm a little in over my head." 

"From Metropolis? Aren’t you a little far from home, blue eyes?" Kurt asked without skipping a beat.

Clark let out a loud laugh.

"Blue eyes? Darling, your eyes aren’t any less blue than mine," Clark said with more husk than necessary.

Kurt audibly purred. The way the man’s words smoothed right over the word ‘’ _darling_ ’’, the timbre of his voice, the way Kurt could visually see the bulging muscles from the oddly shaped and fitting suit. It was obvious the man wasn’t apart of the Fashion world, and yet, Kurt was incredibly entranced.

"I-" Kurt began to say. 

Maybe Clark was laying on the charm a little too thick, but the slender little minx in front of him was too pretty not to flirt with.

"Kurtie!" A loud voice said as a tall Latina in a silver ball gown ran towards the two.

"Kurt, I got a fucking selfie with her—she was so nice. That bitch is going to be so jealous!" Santana said as she shoved her iPhone in Kurt’s face.

"Hi, studmuffin! Did I interrupt something? Wanky,” she said, finally noticing the weird energy and acknowledging Clark. She took a few steps so she was closer to Clark’s body.

"Santana, you didn’t interrupt anything," Kurt said as he quickly grabbed her arm. 

"Mr. Kent, Santana Lopez. Santana Lopez, Clark Kent of the Daily Planet." Kurt's good manners had him introducing the pair despite how embarrassed he was. 

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Kent,” Kurt tossed a reluctant wave as he ushered Santana forward. Clark nodded his goodbye. 

"Oye, blanquito, don’t tug!" Clark heard Santana say as he watched their retreating forms in front of him. He spent a few moments staring at the back of a man he would love to know before smiling to himself and walking back to the press table. Maybe this night wouldn't be a waste after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on Feb 16.  
> Title comes from Gerard Way's cover of Happy Together.


	2. The Clock Says Its Time To Close Now

“San, that was amazing! I feel like Cinderella, a little bit,” Kurt said as he carefully walked along the sidewalk. Even though they had both tried their hardest to remain professional, one too many champagne flutes were had. Santana was definitely drunk, and Kurt kept trying his hardest to shepherd her towards the nearest subway station without her tripping over the bottom of her gown but he himself was starting to feel the drinks.

“Let’s find a food cart,” she said as she stumbled forward.  “I want falafel!” Santana yelled at a man across the street.

Kurt laughed as he playfully shoved her. “Don’t yell at that guy! We don’t know him,” he giggled and didn’t stop. Kurt’s expensive Italian leather loafers were starting to form blisters on his delicate feet. They had cost two months worth of paychecks at the tire shop, and when they came in the mail Burt had yelled at him for being too ‘’highfalutin and wasting your hard earned money, Kurtie!’’ Kurt simply rolled his eyes in response and wore his new shoes to school every day that week.

‘’Santana, sober Kurt would simply never suggest this … b—but I’m tired. And sore. And tired. And exhausted. Shoes off?” He asked as he leaned against a parking meter. They still had a few blocks to walk before they found the first station, and then it would be a 30-minute ride back home. Without waiting for her response he leaned down and slipped them off his feet. Santana shrugged and grabbed her heels in one simple fluid motion.

“This is gonna’ be gross, mijo.” Santana supplied as she slumped down and started to shuffle forward.

“We’ll just have to spend an extra hour in the shower.” Kurt chuckled again as he began to cradle his loafers in his arms. “I know there’s a shortcut on 4th so let's just take this alleyway,” Kurt said as he nudged Santana in the direction he wanted to go.

“Is that safe?” She slurred her words and then burst out in a raucous fit of laughter.

“Girl, she's a slurring tonight!” Kurt replied back. “Besides, it’s not like we l-live in Gotham city. This is Manhattan. We’re fine!”

‘’Kay, I still really want falafel.”

* * *

 

‘’Yes sir. Yes, Mr. White. Yes, I do know what time it is, sir. Yes, it’s 3 am. Yes, I will have my piece on your desk Monday morning, sir. I’m just calling to ask if you approved my assignment suggestion and to inform you I didn’t have high enough press clearance to interview most of the designers. Yes, Mr—Mr. White, I—. Yes. Alright, sir. Alright. I apologize. Good night, Perry.” Clark sighed before running a hand over his weary face. He was tired—and he meant it. Shmoozing with a crowd of incredibly stuck up and wealthy people was not something he was good at. He finally understood why Bruce was the way he was now.

Well, that was making a bold statement, but he got why he was so grumpy. He thought he’d rather go a few rounds with Bizarro then deal with that bullshit again. It just wasn’t in his blood. Clark wanted a nice warm bath and hot cocoa before bed. He figured if he flew at his normal speed he would be able to get home by 6 and by then he knew he’d be ravenous so he’d have to make time to heat up one of his meal prepped meals before bed.

He thought that he’d sleep a few hours, then wake up to do some light morning patrols, soak up some sun, and go back to sleep. In fact, he began to plan the rest of his weekend in a calming manner as he packed his laptop and journal into his father’s old messenger bag. It was times like these when he missed his father’s guidance the most.

Pa Kent had a simply calming nature to him that often assuaged any leftover fear or guilt Clark kept in his heart. He wanted now more than ever to sit Pa down and discuss the Lois situation. Hear his warm tone and leave his mind on the table. Ma did her best, and her words of wisdom were just as valuable, but a boy needed his father and Clark was stuck. If he really sat and thought about it, he could imagine the response Pa would give but nothing he could think would ever compare to what Pa would say. Clark gave the security guard at the door a small nod before stepping out into the street.

New York and Gotham air would never be something he would get used to. It always smelled different, tainted in the smallest of ways. Metropolis wasn’t any better but at least it was so close to home, to Smallville, that he could easily get a breath of fresh Kansas farm air. He started his slow casual walk when he heard the first scream.

* * *

 

“Get the hell off me!” Santana yelled as she kicked at the man in front of her. Her movement was restricted in the tight fitting ball gown but she was determined to fight back. Lima Heights raised her and Santana never backed down from a fight. She was cursing the fact that she had decided to forgo her usual razor blades when she did her hair that morning, as she didn't have her usual weapon on hand.

“Kurt!” She screamed again, but Santana couldn’t see where Kurt was, not when a man was pinning her arms behind her back and the man in front of her was dodging her kicks and spit. She growled before wrestling her way out of the unknown attacker's grip.

“Kurt!” She yelled again, before the man in front of her starting laughing. She clawed at his face with her nails before he was suddenly pulled backward. The gust of that action made her fall flat on her back, and she scrambled backward until she hit something. Santana risked a glance up and noticed Kurt standing above her—blood dripping down his face and his scarf and collar torn in two.

“Whoa," he breathed.

She followed his gaze towards the very large man floating above the ground. His bright blue and red costume stood out even in the New York City nighttime. It was Superman. What was Superman doing in Manhattan? Why was he not in Metropolis? Manhattan had her own superheroes—but beggars couldn’t be choosers and she was anything if not extremely grateful for the save—not that she would tell him that.

Kurt was quick to grab her by her shoulders and hoist her up. She looked around for her shoes but couldn’t find where they had been thrown.

“Is there a reason you’re bothering these fine people in the middle of the night?” Superman asked in a loud, steady voice.

Even though he was breathing heavily, Kurt felt like he couldn’t get any real gulps of air.

‘’Hey-H-hey man, we’re just having fun.” The guy in Superman’s grip said. The second and third assailants had run off.

“I want to have fun too,” Superman replied, in a deadpan tone. Kurt didn’t like the edge he could hear in the costumed crusader's voice.

“Let him go, Superman.” He spoke up. The attack and the following adrenaline response certainly sobered him up, and despite how shitty those men were—Kurt did not believe in violence. He refused to let someone stoop down to their level if it was his own behalf. Superman looked at him quizzically, but released his hold on the guy and pushed him forward.

“Run,” he stated directly.

The man took off. Superman watched him go before walking up to the pair. Kurt could tell he was used to total authority, he walked with an assuredness that Kurt himself had fought for.

‘’I wasn’t going to hurt him.” Superman replied. “Maybe break his nose," the superhero said. "And then drag him to the nearest Police Station," Superman finished with a chuckle. 

Santana looked up at him with shock before regaining a few her senses.

“Well, we were fine before you got here so,” she said.

“Ah, I see. Would you like me to go find them and bring them back so you can pick up where you left off?” he asked.

Kurt let out a small squeak. “ No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you for saving us. Your choice in costume is quite stunning,” and tight, but Kurt was NOT going to tell him that.

Superman blushed. “How are you getting home?” he asked.

“Subway is close by, we live in Greenwich,” Santana responded as she wiped her tears and smoothed her flyaways as discreetly as she could.

‘’I can fly you there,” Superman said. Kurt was shocked by his offer before he could respond Santana interrupted with a ‘’Wanky’’, of her own. Superman raised his eyebrows.

‘’I don’t think our stomachs could handle this and flying with you. As much as it is a lifetime offer, if you would be so kind as to escort us to the subway station, I believe we can take it from there.’’ Kurt supplied. Kurt's mind was reeling. What were the odds they would be the victims of an attempted mugging in Manhattan, to only then be rescued by Superman himself? He found himself thanking his lucky stars and all the gods of Fashion that Superman was in the vicinity. But why? Finn was never going to believe him. Superman actually saved him from muggers? Seriously? And boy was he as beautiful as the news reporters said he was.  No wonder Lois Lane was obsessed with him. Kurt barely had time to catalog the tears to his outfit, but he knew he had lost his shoes somewhere. 

 

''I think we lost our shoes, Santana,'' Kurt said. 

''Well, shit.'' She replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited on feb 16th  
> title from soul kitchen by the doors


	3. A Conversation

“Kent!”

Clark woke up with a slam, numerous papers shuffled off his desk and he scrambled to find his glasses. After putting them back on he pretended to adjust his sight. His boss, Perry White, stood over his desk with both hands on his hips. A discerning frown adorning his face. Clark couldn’t remember what he did this time, but knowing Perry -- clearly, he did something. Living a double life was easy for Clark, being an investigative journalist came easily, (even if Perry refused to let Clark have the good cases), but staying up all night to fight crime often left him exhausted during his day job. And if Clark didn’t get enough sun the day before? He would not be able to function. His Kryptonian nature required the sunlight more so than any other nutrient. He could go days without food or water, but days without sunlight? If his restores were depleted? It was just as bad as kryptonite.

“Kent, what the hell is this assignment?” Perry asked as he threw a printed copy of his fashion gala piece on his messy desk.

"Sir, I put that in the drop box days ago, did you just get around to review?” Clark asked.

“I can’t publish this! It reads like you actively dislike Sirano!” Perry complained.

Clark could see Lois peek her head over her cubicle. Great.

“Well, sir, I didn’t think his fashion was that fashionable,” Clark said as he swallowed a gulp.

Perry flexed his hand and grabbed the copy off the desk.

“Deadline is tonight. Rewrite this. Or else!’’ Perry spun on his heel and did not allow Clark to comment. “Lane! My office! Now!”

Clark watched as Lois yelped and scrambled to follow behind him, her heels making a loud clang against the tile floor. Jimmi Olsen leaned down to place some copies of pictures on his desk.

"What’s that about, Kent?’’ she asked in her soft voice.

“It’s Lo probably up to something again,” Clark responded. Jimmi shook her head before walking away.

* * *

 

“Frankly, I just don’t see a reason why you have to talk about it.” Rachel condescendingly replied at the dinner table.

Finn, Blaine, Rachel, Kurt, and Santana were all having what was supposed to be a peaceful dinner but with the recent breakup, tensions were simply too high.

"I think it’s pretty neat!” Finn said with a happy grin.

"Neat?’’ Rachel squeaked. Santana rolled her eyes. Blaine pushed his peas around his plate.

“Kurt—” He began but Kurt quickly intercepted with a comment of his own.

“Rach, no one is talking about it. It’s scary and hard for us to process, it’s not something to be lauded or praised.” Kurt said as he pointedly looked at Finn.

“We could have been really hurt and the fact that he was there? A real live superhero? Well, honestly, I’m—”

‘’Bad Romance’’ by Lady Gaga began to play, a loud tinny sound that shook everyone out of their awkward angry stupor.

 "Oh, that’s my phone,” Kurt said as he dropped his fork and stood up.

"No phones at the table!’’ Rachel yelled.

“Listen, freak-show, let him get the damn phone!” Santana yelled.

Kurt could hear the two girls arguing with Finn’s quiet protests in the background as he walked away to grab his phone. It was an unknown number with a Metropolis area code. He picked up.

 "Hello? Kurt Hummel speaking,” Kurt answered without a moment of hesitation.

A deep smooth voice responded.

“I hope this isn’t inappropriate of me."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t place the voice.

“My name is Clark. Clark Kent. We met at the gala a few nights ago. Outside the men’s room?’’

Kurt turned back around to watch Blaine and Rachel start to sing a song while Finn piled on more mashed potatoes. He looked at Santana and she made a go motion with her hand. Kurt stepped outside on the fire escape. The peaceful night time sounds and the cool air was starting to really feel like home for him. He settled on a step.

“How did you get my number?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m a reporter for the Daily Planet, I think I told you that. We’re given press passes and a list of all the other publications that attended the event. I had your first name and the fact that you work for Vogue. I had one of my contacts do some digging and I found you. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t desperately need your help.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows and leaned his head against the top step.

“You need my help so bad you stalked me until you found my number?”

A soft chuckle came through the speakers.

“I wouldn’t call it stalking.”

“But it is.” Kurt’s quick reply came.

“Okay, I stalked you. But you’re cute and I’m desperate and I really can’t afford to lose my job.” Clark said.

“Lose your job?”

“You glossed over the cute part.”

Kurt sighed before crossing his legs.

“No, I didn’t. Why are you losing your job?”

“Well, I won’t. Not if I can get your help on this article. Apparently, my disdain for some of the designers comes through. I’m just a farm boy from Kansas, It’s my dream to work crime, not fashion. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and you do, so, please. Tell me about this world so that I can write a piece that stops my editor from canning me.”

“Kurt! How could you just get up and—“ Blaine said from the open doorway.

“I need to take an important business call, Blaine. Please leave me alone.”

Clark smiled.

 

**SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE OF EARTH’S ATMOSPHERE, THE WATCHTOWER**

 

“How long have they been missing for?” Barry asked, concern dripping from his body posture. Clark shuffled a few papers alongside the desk. They were doing their weekly meetings, discussing new cases, assignments and giving general updates on the affairs in their sectors.

Diana looked to Bruce, who typed a few things into his keyboard, images on the screen above them flashed quickly.

“Since a month ago, it seems,” Bruce said. 

“Two state senators, one socialite, and a mayor's daughter? Why hasn’t this received more press attention?”  Arthur said as he looked to Clark.

Sometimes the league often acted as if Clark was their media liaison, or that  Bruce was their permanent financial backing. It was frustrating, but it came with the territory of being one of the leaders. Bruce and Clark did their best. Bruce was appointed obviously for his vast financial resources but also because he refused to have it any other way. That man simply had an ego the size of Mars and was not that great at taking orders. Clark, on the other hand, really did not want any positions of power, but he was steadfast in his opinions and had a charm to him that the others had agreed would be perfect to balance Bruce out. Diana had insisted on leading, if not for her infinite wisdom but for her grace and kindness, but Bruce simply gave her a sharp look and suggested they create a council of the founding members. She huffed but agreed.

Arthur, Barry,  Clark, Diana, Bruce and sometimes when he could be found, J’onn were the official leaders of the League. Ollie, Dinah, and Shayera sometimes sat in on meetings if one of them needed certain advice or to fill in for one of the council’s sectors. Bruce and Clark delegated tasks to the junior members of the league and made sure the council ran their sectors smoothly. Between patrols, league duty, managing his sector and working full time, Clark barely had time to tie his own shoelaces when he went for his daily runs.

“It’s not like we don’t have amazing crime reporters trying their best to catch stories and write about them, Arthur.” Clark sighed. He really just wanted the respect he believed he deserved in his damn field.  “Why doesn’t Diana get blamed for political issues that go wrong?” Clark asked more attitude than he meant for.

“It’s not as if I can control the humans on this planet, Clark!” Diana said as she took a sip from her Starbucks cup.

“Clark, that’s not what Arthur meant,” Barry chimed in softly from his seat.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Moving forward, it’s not Clark’s fault. I believe many just aren’t putting the connections together. This is clearly a connected case. The kidnappings are all too similar.”

“What do some random kidnappings have to do with my people? Or with my sector?” Arthur said with a growl.

“Wouldn’t you want help if important people started going missing from Atlantis?” Clark asked. He was over it. All he wanted to do was go home, pop open a beer and text Kurt. Wait for what? When did that happen?

Clark and Kurt had started talking to each other more often now, ever since he called to ask help for his paper. With Kurt’s assistance, Clark was able to turn in a modified version that Perry loved and published happily. Clark hadn’t had to do any silly fluff assignments since that week, but he knew it would be a matter of time.

Kurt had texted him a few days later, asking how his article went and when Clark had it published, he sent Kurt a digital copy. He thanked his confidential informant in the piece, and Kurt was very excited to have made a small contribution to the world in regards to fashion.  They started off by sending each other good morning and good evening texts, but Clark couldn’t help himself and soon they were debating cats vs dogs, Backstreet Boys vs N*SYNC, Britney vs Christina, and surprisingly, Batman vs Superman.

Clark tried to pretend he wasn’t biased, but he absolutely adored when Kurt provided several paragraphs as to why he was a full stop supporter of the man in blue.

Kurt was … incredibly intelligent, poised and very thoughtful in regards to Clark’s feelings. They hadn’t moved past friendly ribbing or talking, and Clark was hesitant to bring any change in their status quo—but he couldn’t get enough. Clark had no actual idea if Kurt was even remotely interested in him, or if he had read all the flirting wrong and if Kurt was straight, or if he was seeing someone else and wouldn’t have time for Clark’s bumbling mess of nerves and farm boy mentality. Ma and Pa Kent always made sure that Clark was confident, but true confidence and the self-assuredness that Kurt had that Clark envied? That had to come from within. Kal El, last son of Krypton and heir to the house of El? He was strong. He was invincible, he was a savior. He could do anything. Clark Joseph Kent? Clark Joseph Kent still struggled with some things on the daily, but he was getting better. Getting stronger. It just took a little practice.

Arthur loudly guffawed and said, “Please, Kent. I’m the goddamn King. You think I don’t know if prominent members of my community go missing?” He said with an upturned chin.

Clark gripped the table a little harder than he meant to. “Oh yeah? I must have fucking forgot because you’re never there!” Small cracklike fissures in the table began to form.

Diana slammed her cup on the table.

“Clark! This table was a gift from the Ambassador of Bialya! “ She quickly chastised. Diana was so over all the dick measuring at the council table. She had been advocating for another girl to join the council. The testosterone was quickly becoming too much for her patience to handle.

“Guys,“ Barry tried weakly as he quickly shifted his gaze to his friends. He shrunk back in his seat.

“Clark. Arthur. Shut Up.” Bruce said as he shuffled a few more papers around.

Clark stood up angrily and gave his friend a hard look. Bruce. Batman voice. Right.  He grabbed his bag and tossed his own cup into the trash.

“I’m gonna go take a flight. Cool off a bit, I think.” Clark said to no one in particular.

“Fucking prick,” he heard Arthur comment as he walked away.

  


 

**BUSHWICK, NEW YORK**

 

“Kurt, I just want to know who this guy is that you’re talking to!” Rachel said with a scandalized tone as she popped vegan popcorn into her mouth. It was a girls night, and the three of them were enjoying a lazy evening watching reruns of Golden Girls and Sex in the City with snacks and wine.

Kurt sighed before he grabbed an armful of a pillow and placed it on his lap.

“Rach, I’m not talking to anyone! I am a happy single pringle and it’s going to stay that way.” He responded as he reached into the bowl for a handful of popcorn.

Santana made a loud noise from the kitchen as she came into the room with two bottles of red wine.

“Please, lady. We all know that you’re sad and lonely these days. Do you think we can't hear you furiously beating your meat in the middle of the night? At least it sounds better than Berry when she climaxes.”

Kurt, now used to Santana's usual verbiage simply rolled his eyes.

“Santana Maria Lopez! You can not say stuff like that! You know I’m getting really tired of this!" Rachel said.

Kurt tuned out Rachels loud yelling as his phone buzzed. Speak of the devil.

Kurt hurried to open up the text message from Clark. He and Clark had been corresponding ever since he helped him with his article and Kurt found himself more and more eager to get to know this beautifully unique man.

 

_Is it just me or am I having a terrible week? Do you have time to facetime later? I’m just getting off work, but I have some cool things to show you._

 

Kurt bit his bottom lip in excitement. 

 

“Whoa! Wait! Why are you smiling? Is that him?” Rachel asked as she quickly shoved Santana off her. Rachel snatched Kurt's phone up and showed it to Santana.

“Who is Clark? Why does he sound like an old man?” Santana asked as she tossed Kurt’s cell phone back to Rachel. Rachel sat down and leaned a hand on Kurt’s right shoulder. Santana gave him back his phone.

“Seriously, Hummel. You’re skimping out on details, and we want them!” She said as she pulled the cork on the wine that sat across the coffee table.

“He’s 10 years older than me, and he’s just a friend. I’m not _talking_ to anyone.” Kurt said as he pulled his phone close and tucked it against his chest.

His feisty friends raised their eyebrows before clinking their wine glasses together. They didn’t believe him for a second.  Kurt took their distracted moment to quickly compose a text back.

 

_Hey! It’s girls night but if you give me 30 minutes I can sneak away for a bit. I’m sorry you’re having a bad week, but I can’t wait to tell you about the newest thing Rach and ‘Tana are bickering about now!”_

 

Kurt saw the small dots form in the corner of the screen and a small chill went up against his spine. Blaine never texted back as fast as Clark did.

 

His phone pinged.

_Perfect. Talking to you has become the highlight of my days, Kurt._

 

Kurt blushed before he set the phone down and took a glass of wine.

  
  
  
_**WAREHOUSE DISTRICT, GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY.** _

 

“My Mistah J will just love to hear all about this!” Harley cheerfully said as she sucked on a lollipop and shoved a high heeled boot into the side of the dead body she was currently playing with.

Poison Ivy sighed and wrapped a curled tendril of vine around Harley’s free leg. Harley chuckled before bounding over and placing a quick kiss on Pamela’s face.

“Pammie! We should wait till all the freaks are dead!” Harley nodded in the direction of the currently tied up city councilman. Pamela gave her lover a tight-lipped smile and nodded her head ever so slightly. Any mention of the psycho killer clown never failed to put Pamela in the worst of moods. The thought of her Harley anywhere near that man made her blood boil and her vines unfurl in eager anticipation.

“Darling, should we involve the clown in this endeavor?” Pamela tried in her silkiest voice. She refused to let Harleen backslide into negative spaces, plus, she hated that man. Pamela thought that everyone would be better off if Joker was dead, and she would be willing to do it herself if she didn't expect to get a visit from The Bat and his wayward ragtag group of bird boys.

“Of course, Pammie! Mistah J has a great plan that involves the city council and will finally get rid of that damn Bat! We’ll be free to be ourselves, isn’t that what you want?” Harley asked her girlfriend with a soft voice.

Pamela felt her skin growing several shades darker with her concern. She wanted out of the warehouse and into her warm bed, her happy children cooing at her presence and the woman she loved by her side. Selina was right, they were both tired of this business. All Pamela had ever wanted was a safe environment for her children, and for all the other flora and fauna in the world. She wanted a clean ecosystem with healthy beautiful air to breath, she didn’t want to watch her girlfriend carve small ace of spades into the back of a screaming city councilman on a Friday evening. Selina had tried to get out, and Pamela knew she spent most of her nights lazily curled up against the side of the Bat like a true cat.

“Yes my sweet, that is what I desire,” Pamela responded as she padded over to Harley, ignoring the blatant cries of the man she was so happily torturing. Pamela’s bare feet made no noise against the floor.

“We can tell him tomorrow, can’t we?” The green woman asked as she took the knife from Harley’s hands. “Let's go get some dinner, Harleen.”

Poison Ivy knew she needed some time to figure out a way to get them out of this. Finding Selina and having her pass a message along to the Bat would be effective, but Selina and Pamela had a falling out recently. She supposed she could contact one of the bird brats … they’d be able to help.  They were always so bright and eager to assist anyone who asked for it, unlike their leader who was angry and all black all the time. Perhaps the blue one? The one that liked to stare at her cleavage when he fought her? The eldest one, she thought? What was his name?

Harley gave an unsatisfied hum as she tossed the carving knife to the side.  

“I want Chinese!” she said as she began to drag the councilman.

Pamela remembered. Nightwing. Perhaps Nightwing would help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited on feb 16th and combined the original chapter 3 and 4 into one. 
> 
> also I realize I've fudged the timeline. add santana in to the break up episode, and push that episode down a few and you'll have this story.


	4. Date Night

Metropolis had more humidity than New York and Kurt’s hair and skin were certainly suffering. Clark had begged for a whole week and even provided the tickets and press passes for Kurt to come to visit him.

“This is the best ice cream in this city, Kurt,”  Clark said as he dipped his spoon back into their shared bowl. Kurt blushed. If anyone had told him in high-school if he'd be sharing an ice cream sundae with a man as handsome as Clark Kent? He’d have scoffed. Life was different then, and he was finally carving out a solid place for himself in the big city. Without Blaine and the warblers, without the constant condemnation of his high school peers, without Finn and his constant pestering.  He loved his family and friends, really, but Kurt Hummel barely knew who he was without the opinions and influence of others. Spending time with Clark was a way for him to figure that out, and being in Metropolis, Kansas? Well, that was a new experience, a whole city away from people that knew him; he could be anyone.

“There’s this little shop in the heart of Manhattan that has really great ice cream too,” Kurt said around a spoonful of low-calorie vanilla bean.

“But they’re not as good as this!” Clark nudged.

Kurt laughed and nodded.

Kurt had purposefully stayed away from mentioning Blaine around Clark. Hell, he didn’t know what Clark’s sexuality was and he would never assume. He was grateful enough to have made such a mature and fun friend.

“Kurt,” Clark began as he tossed a napkin aside. “A-are you alright? You look a little down.”

Kurt was taken aback by Clark’s tender voice. A rush of tears welled up, he blinked them away furiously.

“Clark, I’m fine. You know, we haven’t talked about sexuality or-or our personal lives in the very lengthy midnight conversations we’ve had.” Kurt said.

Clark’s smile lit up the room and Kurt found a hidden sense of strength despite his burning need to run and cry. If Clark was homophobic then so be it. Kurt would simply hop on the next bus out of Kansas and be back in Bushwick in the next day, but he had this _feeling_. That maybe he hadn’t ignored the subtle flirting and the hidden tones in their talks.

“I was respecting your privacy,” Clark said with an upturned brow. “Tact is in the reporter’s nature.”

Kurt hunched his shoulders and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table in a typically uncourteous table manner move.

“I’m gay, and I know it’s obvious. There’s this guy, there’s only ever been this one guy—high school sweethearts and all that.” Kurt waved his hand around in the air, before blowing out a huff of air. “He uh—turned out to not be so sweet, and he won’t leave me alone or take no for an answer.” Kurt finished and looked up at Clark. Clark’s expression was unreadable, but Kurt knew anger when he saw it.

“Does he hurt you?” was Clark’s simple response. Kurt was shocked.

“No. No. He never has,” came Kurt’s quick reply.

 Clark’s face softened and he gave Kurt a reassuring closed-mouth smile. Kurt’s hands came to rest on either side of their bowl. Clark grabbed his right hand and held it.

 “It’s not like … _that_. My dad loves him and so does everyone else in our friend group. I know he wants me back but I have no desire to be with him again. It’s just hard when everyone is always trying to tell me what to do and who to be with.” Kurt said as Clark gave his hand a squeeze.

 “I get that, I get that a lot. You’re not the only queer person in the room, Kurt.” Clark said as he took a sip from his Pepsi. Kurt glanced up with big, glassy eyes.

 “Oh,” he muttered.

 He took his hands back to coyly wipe his wet eyelashes.

 “Is this a date, Clark?”

 “Do you want it to be?” Clark asked

 “Oh, yes,” Kurt said in a whisper.

 Clark bit his lip and then laughed quietly. “Then I’m glad to be on a date with the most handsome man in all of Metropolis.”

  
**CHOIR ROOM, WILLIAM** **MCKINLEY** **HIGH SCHOOL. LIMA, OHIO.**

  
“Hey, Blainey Bot!” Kitty said as she tossed her hair back into an even pony. Blaine looked up from his spot near the barre.

“Gosh, Kitty, what are you on about now?” Tina said from where she and Unique were running bar drills by the piano.

“That hunky dish of 6 foot 4 man meat that Kurtie Pop is blowing at night,” Kitty replied condescendingly as she shoved her phone screen in Blaine’s direction.

Blaine glanced up and slowly walked forward, a ball of dread forming in his belly.

He took Kitty’s phone with nimble fingers and shared the screen with the small group gathering around him. It was an Instagram picture of Kurt and a man that Blaine did not recognize and he had to admit he was very handsome.

 

_@KurtLizHummel: Had the most amazing time with @clarkjoseph today! We went to Maggie’s Ice Cream Emporium, The Daily Planet, and he gave me a personal tour of downtown! Metropolis is beautiful!_

_@clarkjoseph replied: grateful to spend all the time with you I can! Round two on your end?_

_@KurtLizHummel replied: you bet._

 

Blaine’s mouth ran instantly dry. He handed Kitty her phone back.

"So what? He can’t have friends” Tina asked both hands on her hips. 

"Friends you go to Metropolis for?” Sam said as he slipped his finger through one of the belt loops on Blaine’s red slacks.

“Okay, Kids! Gather round, gather round. I’m thinking that we can do a new medley to start off the week and get us loose before sectionals!” Schuester said as he spun in a circle. “RiRi vs Nicki!” He said. The room erupted in cheers, but Blaine stayed silent.  
  
“Wow, Mr. Schue! Did you get laid last night?” Kitty asked with a chuckle. Will made a face.  
  
Marley rolled her eyes. “Ew, Kitty.” She said.  
  
“Okay, alright. Settle down.” Schue said as he began to write on the whiteboard. Blaine’s mind was racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited on feb 16th, and my dialogue tags are looking v weird. 
> 
> when life is a fucking nightmare and the chapter you put out is teeny tiny. 
> 
> ugh. 
> 
> BUT, lisssssssen, I've a thousand plot bunnies for smallville fics so to keep shit clean, this is how yall will know what's in the smallville verse and what's in the dceu: MA KENT/PA KENT = DCEU/Animated verse. MOM/DAD/MOMMY\DADDY = SMALLVILLE. good? got it. 
> 
> ALSO. I had like a thousand ideas for this chapter but real plot gon' have to waitttttt. filler, filler ya'll. 
> 
> @itsfrantastic // facebook, @mysticforceblue // insta. follow ya girl. she thirsty. 
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN <3333


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